She hung up.
Ever the high-pressure businesswoman.
Frankie kept clutching the dead phone.
King put his hands in the air, feigning that he was fed up. ‘I’m done, Frankie. I don’t know what this shit is but I’m done.’
But Frankie would know he and Bobby and Kit couldn’t take care of five Vitality+ employees, along with Choi, on the same night. Not on their own. Sure, it was only civilians they were dealing with, but a task of that magnitude required manpower.
Frankie seemed to detest his own response, but he patted the air. ‘Relax. Just relax. Tell me what happened.’
King glanced at Slater, and sure enough Slater’s face was a mask of feigned betrayal.
Slater’s eyes widened like he’d been struck by a revelation. ‘Did Carter or those other two meatheads know Choi?’
‘What? No. Why would they—?’
King said, ‘Frankie.’
Frankie stopped talking.
King said, ‘We beat someone to death. You see my knuckles?’ He held them up. They were roughly calloused from consistent training, but if you didn’t know that you’d believe they’d been freshly used to pummel flesh. ‘I joined in. Okay? I didn’t tell you that part. Carter made me participate, because he didn’t trust me. Then all this shit happened and now you’re telling me Choi is alive. So who did we kill?’
Slater said, ‘Carter was awfully unhappy to bring us along. He must’ve already planned all of this. Does he know Choi? Was he protecting him?’
Frankie said, ‘This is insane. He wouldn’t—’
‘Carter’s not here, is he? The three of them bounced.’
King stuck to his guns. ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’
‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ Frankie finally admitted, ‘but I need you two.’
They pretended to think it out, then King said, ‘Okay. Fine. But none of this amateur hour.’
He looked at Bobby and Kit.
Bobby said, ‘I think I believe you. But I still don’t fucking trust you.’ He shook his HK in his hand. ‘So this stays right where it is.’
King said, ‘Fine by me. I’d do the same if I were you.’
Which settled tensions a little.
Frankie said, ‘I’m gonna rip Carter’s head off.’
Slater said, ‘Not if I do it first.’
Kit said, ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but I never liked him. Got the smell of rat off him the first time I met him.’
Frankie sighed, turned all around. ‘So we’re good?’
Nods, all across the board.
Except Danny, who stood there like he was being held at gunpoint, grossly uncomfortable. He seemed to understand he’d avoided being caught in the crossfire by a hair.
Frankie slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Snap out of it, kid.’
Then he took a breath, got his racing thoughts together, and pointed at King. ‘You come with me and Danny. Whatever issue there is between the two of you, we’re going to sort it out on the way to the first address. We’ll start handling Heidi’s list.’ He then pointed at Slater. ‘You go with the twins. Find Choi. I’ll put you in touch with Heidi’s sentry.’
King’s head spun at the changing landscape, but he knew he was lucky to be alive. He wasn’t about to push it. ‘Fine.’
He exchanged a look with Slater that he hoped communicated, Kill them. First chance you get.
Slater managed the tiniest knowing nod.
Slater turned to the twins. ‘Works for me. Honestly, if I were you, I’d keep those guns where they are. Two new guys come in and everything goes to shit. This whole thing smells suspicious. Don’t blame you one bit.’
They kept their HKs out, but their guards came down.
Slater must’ve figured he had a better shot when they were alone, because he put his own HK45 back in his waistband to properly defuse the situation. Then he headed for their car.
Frankie called out, ‘Where’d you get that piece?’
Over his shoulder, Slater said, ‘Bought it off some Russians.’
He got in the passenger seat and Bobby got in the back. Kit got behind the wheel and peeled away.
Then it was King, Frankie, and Danny, alone in the lot.
Wind washed off the nearby ocean, whistling out of the dark and over the asphalt.
Frankie said, ‘Alright. Let’s go do this.’
King pulled Carter’s Glock.
Before he could bring it up to put a round through Frankie’s head, Danny stepped between them.
55
Heidi stood shaking in the privacy of her eight-car garage.
She hadn’t turned any lights on.
If her husband confronted her now, she wouldn’t be able to keep up the act. As soon as the new message from John Rhames had come through, she’d swiftly stood up and removed herself from the dining room, and came in here where she could hide between her Rolls Royce and her Bentley. There was some catharsis in the way the giant automobiles enclosed her, like a pair of barricades sealing her off from the world.
She clutched her phone in a sweaty palm, the opened text message on the screen.
Beneath the contact name JOHN RHAMES it read:
Don’t come in tomorrow. I didn’t resign like we agreed. I cast an emergency vote instead. You’re gone.
She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. But that proved to only be a moment of weakness, because as soon as she pulled herself together she found herself renewed by the idea of knowing the seven employees she hated most would soon meet a brutal demise.
Then she could go down.
Whatever it took, whatever was required, she’d do it. Just for that final satisfaction.
Which put her in the right headspace when her phone rang in her hand and she looked down and saw: PETR.
She answered. ‘Yes?’
‘You are not gonna believe this.’ He was almost shouting. From the strange tone alone she knew he was coked to the eyeballs. She had to expect that, giving him a job with no notice. ‘Your best friend actually got the jump on me. At Ernie’s.’
‘What? Who’s my friend?’
‘Sarcasm, my dear. It’s that bitch who looks like your employee. The one who kicked this whole thing off.’
Her heart double-timed. ‘She did what?’
‘Came in while we were giving him the beating. Don’t ask
